Damned Sunsets
by thatswhyyyoudont
Summary: Oneshot. Set during "Brother From Another Series". The main cause of Sideshow Bob's fondness for them was that whenever they occured, Bart Simpson had gone home.


Over the past few weeks, Robert Terwilliger had come to greatly appreciate sunsets. They were beautiful to watch, of course, especially from Springfield Dam, so much so that when working late Bob always permitted himself a break in order to view them, but the main cause of his fondness for them was because whenever they occurred, Bart Simpson had gone home.

At first, when Bob had began working late, he had hoped Bart would stay away, in fear of being alone with him, maybe, but unfortunately Bart was as stubborn as a goat. He did, however, always creep away before sunset, probably to keep from completing the long, solitary walk home in the dark. No fool is he.

This evening, not long before sunset, Bob knelt in the dirt, pouring over the engineering plans. Behind him, there was another rustle in the bushes. He ignored it. He had begun to put up with Bart's stalking with good grace, but he'd had a bad day; those stupid yodels he worked with were pushing him to his limits. On an impulse, Bob raised his head and, without looking round, called out, "Won't your parents be wondering where you are?"

He was half expecting, half hoping, for a cheeky reply, but he didn't get one, cheeky or otherwise. He went back to the plans. When he'd finished, about an hour later, he knew Bart was gone. He knew it from how the feeling of being watched had ceased, and how there was no more rustling to be heard, and how sunset had been and gone. Bob sighed and began gathering up his things.

--

The next night was no different from the last. Or the last. Or the last. He worked late, alone, and Bart worked with him, also, presumably, alone, behind a bush or inside one of the larger pipes, or wherever he decided to situate himself.

Nobody would believe him if he told them, but Bob had begun to fear for Bart's safety. A construction site was no place for a little boy. He had been going to warn Bart personally away from certain areas, but thought better of it. The boy would probably think he was hiding something there and go investigate. No, he had settled on putting up the most conspicuous, painstakingly obvious signs warning signs he could find. It didn't do much to soothe him though. If he knew Bart Simpson, a warning sign was not something he took to heart.

How would he feel if Bart was killed here, in efforts to catch him out in a non-existant crime, in the very place he was attempting to redeem himself? Triumphant? Tired? Bitterly amused at the irony of it all?

He shook his head to clear it. Bart was reckless but he was not stupid. He dropped his pencil and turned around, facing the horizon. He stretched his feet out in front of him and leaned on his hands. He deserved a break.

He scrutinised the area around him. The scamp was still here, he was sure of it. "Bart?"

Again, he received no reply. After a minute or two he resumed his work, and kept at it til sunset.

--

One night, when Bob worked late, Bart also worked late. Bob was on his sunset break, and Bart was still here. He'd heard him a few moments ago. Bon frowned. Curiosity getting the better of him, he got to his feet and made his way to the bushes from which he had heard the rustling. He leaned over one and recoiled in surprise to find Bart curled up there, asleep.

He shook his shoulder gently. "Bart."

He opened his eyes and instantly cringed back.

Bob winced a little himself. In another life, he would have been feeling anything but shame at the boy's fear, but right now it was bringing him ultimately more pain than pleasure.

"It's okay, Bart, I'm not going to hurt you." Bob moved away from him a little, as if to prove his point. He shook his head. "You're wasting your time here. I'm not going to do anything. Why don't you go home?"

Bart had been glancing around fearfully, for his best escape route or perhaps, another employee, but now he met his eyes in what Bob recognised as defiance. "What, so you can get up to your old tricks again? I'm not stupid, Bob. Whatever you're planning to do, I won't let you get away with it."

"Oh, grow up, you little brat," he snapped back at him, surprising even himself at the vehemence in his tone. He couldn't stop himself though. "Can't you see I'm trying? If I wanted to cut you up I'd have done it by now! I want to put all that behind me. Do you have to make it so hard?" He forced himself to stop, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Bart, I'm just under a lot of stress right now. Just get out of here, will you?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned away.

Behind him, Bart's voice cracked at it's first syllable. "Why do you have to be here then?" he cried. "If you really wanted a fresh start you wouldn't have come here. Why can't you just stay away?"

"Bart, I would, really, but my brother's life is here. I can't expect him to give it up for me and, as you know, for me it's either Cecil or prison. Bart, prison, it's..well I hope you never have to find out."

Bart was scrubbing at his eyes fiercely. "But how can you still hate me, after all this time? Even more than Wiggum, and Krusty? You haven't changed. You'll _never_ change. Why am I the only one who can see that? It's not fair! I don't want to die! I'm sick of being scared all the time!"

Horrified, Bob stepped towards him. "Bart, I- "

"_No_," he cried with sudden force, and wrenched himself away, bolting into the approaching dusk.


End file.
